Meditations of the Dead
by tee.tee.why.el
Summary: Lavender Brown finds herself on her own during the Final Battle at Hogwarts.


Prompt…

**Meditations of the Dead**  
By tee.tee.why.el

Screams of the dead echo throughout the hall:  
_Why didn't you save me?  
Why did you choose_ her _life over mine?  
How could you let this happen?_

But only the most important screech from the deceased rumble inside the living's ears:  
_Keep going. Don't give up. Never give up!_

I can't stand still. I need to keep moving. Right now, staying in one spot means death. I'm not ready to die. Not yet. My feet pound the stone floor in a steady rhythm, beating out the line between paradise and hell. Slow down, leave the dead unavenged, and it won't be worth it. None of this will be worth it if we lose. We cannot lose.

The _thud_ beneath my foot changes slightly – I have mounted a section of carpet. This can only mean one thing: the stairs are near. The stairway that leads to the center of the battle, the marble staircase that leads to danger, adventure, to the promise of freedom or slavery, is close by. Am I prepared to give my life helping those who cannot help themselves? Am I willing to sacrifice for those who deserve better? Am I ready to die for Him, the boy who risks his well-being everyday?

My loyal feet skid as I speed around another corner, and I run headlong into Pavarti, who was also running for her life. We both stagger backwards, and, slowly, she begins to fall over the wooden railing.

No. No! NO!

Not Parvati, anyone but her! She is still falling; her body has completed the turn over the rail and is completely upside down now. Her brown eyes are wide; she is in shock. She has to scream, she _needs_ to scream. Someone needs to know that she is falling, for perhaps then someone can catch her. Her mouth opens wide, but no sound comes out. Tears fall from her eyes, only to stream into her black hair, in the direction that gravity pulls them. My best friend, what have I done? What can I do? Desperately, I stretch my hand over the edge, and I search for something to grab onto. I _must_ pull her back to safety; she will _not_ die on my account. I reach farther and farther as Pavarti continues to fall. Something below me shifts and suddenly _I_ am the one tumbling head over heels, towards the floor.

_AHHHHHHH!_

The scream comes from my throat, ripped away without a thought. As I flip through the air, time stops, and I can feel eyes on our falling bodies: Pavarti's and mine. Eyes of all kinds, friends and foe, watch as we plummet.

_Thud._

Bones crack as we crash to the stone floor, and Pavarti stirs no more. I cannot move – everything is on fire, everything is cold, everything is darkening by the second. I can feel myself grow more tired, energy seeping out of me like the blood that is gushing from every pore in my body. People are slipping and sliding around me as they duel, but whether they're skidding on my crimson life force or the emerald gems that fell from the Slytherin hourglass I do not know. All I know is this infinite weariness.

A grotesque snarl resounds from the left of the hall, followed by the sound of padding paws moving fast.

I gasp in pain as a new and deadly enemy lights my shoulder on fire. My blood pours out with renewed vigor, and the white teeth now embedded in my flesh stain with muscle, nerve, and despair. I have been bitten. I am dying. My tears have stopped by now, and my body grows rigid. My arm numbs, and I can feel no longer. My eyes shut in resolution – this is the end, my love. Know that I died for you, not for Him. You, who never loved me, you, whom I've always loved, were my driving force. I can only hope that you will realize this without my help, for I will never have the chance to explain it to you. My life is ending.

"NO!"

I know that voice, it comes from the one whom I competed against for your affections: Granger. How ironic it is that she is the one to interfere, and not you.

_Boom._

One spell, and she believes me to be saved. Yes, Fenrir was blasted halfway across the hall, but my blood ever seeps, my life ever drains away. I don't see her, I don't see you, I don't see Him, but I know that none of you will glance my way again. 'Help' a person once, then leave her for dead? How chivalrous.

Love, I can feel myself fading. All I can say is that I'm sorry I couldn't be the one that you wanted: the bushy-haired brunette who can't keep her mouth shut. I would give anything to be her, to be living, breathing, _fighting_ beside you. I suppose our destinies were never intertwined in that sense. We were doomed to a short spell of feigned affection, nothing more.

I can feel no longer. The pain ceases to throb, and thoughts run through my head no more. The last I see is the magical ceiling above me, the stars and the full moon shrouded by dark, menacing clouds that inevitably promise a ferocious downpour.

As I drift into the never-ending sleep, one final notion rejects the fact that I can think no longer, that I am _dead_, and surfaces anyway:

Never again will I be plagued by storms.

--

Screams of the dead march through his head:  
_Why didn't you save me?  
Why did you choose_ her _over me?  
How could I let this happen?  
Keep going. Don't give up. Never give up!_

But only the most important cry is the one that whispers in his ear:

_Ron Weasley, I love you. Don't forget me._


End file.
